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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



St^itch Lights 



ED. E. SHEASGREEIST. 



ILLUSTRATED 

BY F. J. CARTER. 



IRON TRAIL PUBLISHING ZO,A ^ >,, >»j 3 J, 

MINNEAPOLIS, MINN, 



1902. 



THE LISRAffV OF 

GONHRESS, 
Two Cop^td Rtcsiver. 

OCT. 2d 130? 

Class cx xXo. Mo. 
COFY S. 






COPYRIGHT, 1001, 

BY 

KD. E. SHKASGfREEN^* 



THE CONTENTS. 



Page 

Switch Sights 9 

In to Clear 10 

A May Morning 12 

The Castle by the Rail 13 

A Song of the Iron Trail 15 

The Ancient Pigmy Engine 16 

Watching for the Mail Train 20 

The Coming of Night 23 

A Slumber Song 24 

"Poor Kids" 25 

Who Can Tell? 27 

A Song 28 

When the Whistle Blov/s 29 

**Look Out for the Switch Chuck!" 31 

At Eventide 33 

Through the Fog 34 

Childhood's Prayer 35 

A Requiem 36 

Beneath the Winding Sheet 37 

The Men at the Throttle 39 

The Sailors of the Rail 41 



THE CONTENTS. 

Page 

The Captain of the Train 42 

The Fatal Shot 43 

Remembrance of Warship 45 

Write a Letter Home Tonight 47 

The Mirage on the Plains 49 

Deep Into the Night 51 

The Message of Death 52 

Tho Flight of the Black Flyer 54 

The Night World 56 

Who Will Tell the Story? 59 

Seein' the Steam Cars Come 60 

A Boy's Ambition 61 

The Wiper 63 

My Boyhood Dreams 64 

Two Y/anderers 65 

The Eatin' House Crew 66 

The Song of the Fireman 68 

Longing for Home 70 

The Night Express 72 

The Man at the "Key" 74 

The Thousand Ton Projectile 75 

Sand , 77 

Brighter Days 're Comln' 78 

The Tower Man 80 

*'Ho ! Watchman in the Tower" 81 

Morning Chimes 82 

Jewels of the Line ^3 



THE CONTENTS. 

Page 

The Two Callers 84 

The Engine Bell 85 

Waiting Hearts 86 

The Supreme Maker 87 

'Tis Evening, Love 88 

Semaphores 89 

Terminal Lights 91 

Down 92 

Morning Perfumes 93 

Sunrise 94 

At the Station r.'. 95 

The Builders 98 

Her Daily Course 99 

To Bob 100 

The One-Eyed Monster 102 

The Ananias Club 103 

Oh, Where is Tommy Tucker 105 

Waiting for the Caller 108 

The or Wood-Burnin' Days 112 

A Buffet Car Tragedy 115 

A Pipe Dream 118 

"Out Goes He" 120 

A Hand-Kyer Lullaby 122 

The Babyland Express \ 123 

* Daddy Jim" 125 

Tv/o Li'le CoouG 127 

Tvalight Echoes 128 



THE CONTENTS. 

Page 
Lullaby 129 

The Love of Thy Mother Follows 131 

Just an Engine 132 

The Li'le Po'tah 134 

The North Wind 136 

A Mountain Song 138 

To Mount Raineer 140 

Headlight Flashes 142 

Homeward Bound 144 

*'Am I My Brother's Keeper?" 146 

The Last Run 149 

Signal Lights 150 



For that great number of 
* F A I T H F u L, Waiting Hearts,'' 

OF WHOSE tears AND BROKEN 
HOPES NO RECORD JS KEPT, AS 
THEY WATCH, AND WAIT, AND 
PRAY FOR THEIR ABSENT IrON 

Knight, : : : : : : : : : ; 
Do Cbcsc ''Lights'' BMini. 







^^ 



Of things I speak or things I write, 

I care not what you say, 
Just so my torch will help to light 
Some brother on his way. 

E. E. S. 



iWifch-bi^^bfe. 



With beckoning gleam the Switch Lights burn, 

Far down the quivering rail, 
And plainly speak to all that come, 

From Local to the Mail. 

If high the moon 'mid twinkling stars, 

Or storm clouds darkly lower, 
These switch lights flash, like sentient things, 

From eve till morning hour. 

They clearly shine from dark switch stands 

To guide the coming train — 
To signal, ere it crashes by, 

^The switch is set for th' Main!'' 

So many a light is set to guide 

Us fellows on our way 
To that unseen, far terminal, 

For which we long and pray. 

And while we speed along Life's track 

Should dangers chance to show. 
We'll trust the faithful guiding stars, 

God's Switch Lights all aglow. 




10 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



^Into the Clear/^ 

When on the siding and '4n to clear\ 

With the switches set for th' Main, 
And the tail-lights turned so they give no fear 

To the onward rushing train, — 
With the engine's headlight covered tight, 

And she for a moment asleep, 
Like a mountain beast 
After royal feast, — 
And breathing low, in the darkness of night — 

Then a harvest of stories we reap. 

We tell of the countries that we have seen, 

Of the people that we have met, 
Of many a foreigner, good and green, 

Who murders our English yet: 
Of the bi-eakdowns, wrecks, and then of the ghost, 

And the phantom Ghost Train, too, — 
And then with a flash 
And a deafening crash, 
There comes the train that is ever our boast, — 

And the Night Mail echoes through. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. U 

Our monster awakes, — all grim and black, 

Her eye opens dazzling bright, 
And then again duty calls us back 

To dare the dangerous night. 
Far over the land our way we thread, 

But we sing a song of cheer. 
And then in a Hash 
And deafening crash, 
That frights the living, and wakes the dead, 

We pass the ones ^4n to clear!'' 

But blessed the time when the trip is o'er. 

And we to our homes may go, 
Where a loving wife opens wide the door 

And the '^tots'' run to and fro. 
Whether fair the sky, or clouded the sun. 

Within, love shineth clear, 
And the world flies by, 
With its laugh and cry, 
With all of the heartaches found on its run; 

But we are *'in to clear !^' 



12 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



H May Morning* 

O come for a ride on a sweet May morning, 

Among God's wonderful templed hills, 
Where rises the fragrance of bud and blossom, 

Where sparkle the happy laughing rills; 
'Mid shadows made by the light now streaking 

The eastern sky where the sun burns gold, 
Our steed feels the thrill of the scene enchanting, 

And speeds her way with a spirit bold; 
We race with a crow, a hawk and a king bird, 

We toy with the perfumed winds of May, 
And with every breath the sifting cinders 

Burn into the moss where wee things play; 
With clickety clicks the world w^e awaken, 

While clankety clanks fill all with cheer, 
As onward we swing with a thousand echoes 

That sing the song of May time here. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



13 



Cbe Caetk by the Rail* 



Away down there by the busy track 

Where the engine's bell is rung, 
And the rumble of the train is heard, 

And the song of the wheel is sung 
Stands a castle, close by the throbbing line, 

A castle, six by eight. 
Where Switchman Mike with his old clay pipe. 

Guides passengers and freight. 

This castle there — this six by eight, — 

Is a queersome little shack, 
With a leaky roof and a rusty pipe. 

And walls all smoked and black. 
A small round stove and flags and lights, 

And benches carved with care, 
Is all the furniture it has — 

Except a three-legged chair. 

And here this king, old one-armed Mike, 

Waits patiently each train, 
Lines up the switches — gives the right 

To speed on down the main. 
He recognizes each and all 

The fellows riding high, 
Then goes inside, relights his pipe, 

And dreams of days gone by. 




14 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

He dreams about his boyhood hours — 

Ambition then was strong. 
The world was fair and life was bright, 

And filled with cheer and song. 
He dreams again the dream of youth, 

When some bright sunny day 
Up in the cab or on the car 

He'd wheel the miles away. 

And as the smoke curls 'bove his head, 

A tear steals from his eye 
That tells he lives again the time 

When death came creeping nigh; 
And all the castles that he reared 

Were shattered, one and all. 
To be a thousand times rebuilt 

Within this castle's wall. 

And so, down there midst all the roar 
And smoke and dust and steam, 

And clang of bell, and whistle's screech, 
And different signals' gleam, 

Is this old king, with his old clay pipe, 
And his memories dear to him. 

Where he builds his castles o'er again- 
Built first in years now dim. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 15 

H Song of the Iron CratU 

Ho! Ho! for a ride down the Iron Trail 

As the Spirit of Light creeps west, 
AVhile shadows pass in the moonlit veil 

As if on a ghostly quest; 
Then on to the land of midnight chimes — 

On! Out o'er the steel-trod way! 
And speak in deep-toned, echoing rhymes 

That over the hilltops play. 

Yes, ho I for a ride in the haunted night, 

And through hidden dangers pass, 
And fill the night with the demon sound 

That comes from the screaming mass. 
We tremble away toward the dewy dawn; 

Behind us are dreaming men— 
And slip from the grasp of the night, and on 

To gleam through the gray again! 

Yes, ho! for a ride in the haunted night! 

And a ho! for the new-born day! 
And a ho ! for the men who trust our might 

As onward we speed our way. 



16 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbe Hnctent FMgmy engine* 

Once, upon a summer evening, as I wandered all 

alone, 
Through the round house, dimly lighted by the lamps 

that scarcelj^ shone. 
With my mind in meditation on the things Vd orter 

done, 
And a-thinking of the others that as yet were just 

begun, 
I strolled on among the sections, by the benches and 

the pits. 
To the ancient Pigmy Engine that in death like 

silence sits 
All alone there in its corner, showing dimly in the 

light 
That comes filtering through the windows from the 

darkness of the night. 

In the house were many engines — standards, moguls 

and a ^^pig," 
That could make the box cars rattle as' they danced a 

dusty jig, 
Yet among the many monsters of the glistening, 

steely rail. 
This queer, ancient Pigmy Engine tells the best and 

longest tale; 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. . 17 

How, away back in the sixties, in the time of war and 

strife. 
Did this funny little engine start its greasy railroad 

life. 
When out to this western country, by the rail and by 

the boat, 
She was brought — all disconnected — 'tis a fact quite 

strange to note. 

Shortly after her arrival at her Saintly City home, 
She was put in splendid order from the rail tops to 

her dome, 
And the water soon was boiling o'er her heart of 

burning coals. 
While the ancient crew was busy filling cups and 

oiling holes; 
Then her whistle shrill Ihey sounded, for the time was 

now at hand, 
When this wonder of creation should speed out across 

the land. 
While the crowd that round her gathered shouted 

wildly in her wake, 
As she wiggled up the roadway, like a shiny, squirm- 
ing snake. 

On from levees that were crowded, round the curves 

and up the hills, 
To that other little city where were building giant 

mills; 



18 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

There, around they'd quickly turn her, heading her the 

other way, 
Down the Mississippi River, to the Saintly City, gay. 
Then the road was builded longer — nearly sixty miles, 

I hear, 
While the wandering Indians wondered at so odd a 

looking ^^deer,'' 
As this snorting, puflQng fury, with its funny looking 

train. 
Sped across their native country, in the sunshine or 

the rain. 

Soon the rails crossed distant prairies, climbed the 

mountains, reached the coast. 
And this ancient Pigmj^ Engine then began to 

proudly boast 
She would never leave the railroad but would always 

do her work, 
Wheeling people 'cross the country, nor would ever 

duty shirk ; 
But the road grew to a great one, and there often 

daily came 
Engines of more modern building, each one with a 

different name. 
Till there soon was found so many upon each and 

every run. 
That they crowded out the Pigmy — poor old ancient 

Number One! 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 19 

All! it surely is recorded there's a place for all 

who- re old, 
Long before they're planted deeply in the ground so 

dark and cold — 
Quite the same as 'tis with engines just before they 

see the ^^heap" — 
They are always hid in j)laces where one scarcely 

thinks to peep; 
Then why should they say a fellow who is over 

ninety-five, 
Has no business on a railroad — has no right to be 

alive — 
While the ^^high and holy" 'fflcials put Methuselah in 

the shade, 
And live on and on forever, and are never once re- 
made? 

So I pondered as 1 wandered by the benches and 

the pits, 
To the ancient Pigmy Engine that in death like 

silence sits 
All alone here in this section, showing dimly in the 

light 
That comes filtering through the windows from the 

darkness of the night. 



20 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

hatching for the Mail Crain^ 

The Slimmer afternoon is still, 
Except the murmur of the rill, 
And the low rumble of the mill 

Down by the race. 
The rajs of heat are shimmering fast; 
The swallows lazily fly past, 
And shadows to the east are cast 

In every place. 

The station seems deserted, dead; 
The bright wires w^hisper overhead 
That life from all about has fled — 

And with it care. 
The station master, lolling back, 
Is watching down the quivering track. 
While comes a man with ^*U. S." sack, 

And hangs it square. 

The blacksmith leaves his noisy shop; 
The farmers, homeward bound, all stop; 
And grocery loiterers round must drop 

To watch the "Mail." 
The school boys on their homeward way, 
All leave the road and stop their play, 
And list to what the "hummings" say, 

Down in the rail. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 21 

Each lounger leaves his chosen seat, 
With jeer and joke his friends to greet, 
xlnd talks about the day's great treat 

Of seeing the train. 
Quick comes a tremble in the ground I 
The whistle blows with echoing sound, 
While people gathered close around, 

Lo^k down the main. 

A cloud of smoke now waves in sight, 
As black as any cloud of night; 
The engine rocks from left to right 

Along the track. 
There's roar and clatter, pound and beat, 
A cloud of dust from many a street. 
An echoing rush and smell of heat; 

Then drops a sack.*^ 

Oh, how the crowds on every hand 
Grab at their hats' strong circling band, 
Yet watch the mail bag on the stand, 

That's hanging high; 
And like a flash this hanging one 
Goes -"w^hizz" and ^^crack," and all is done — • 
Away it's carried on the ''run" 

That speeded by. 

Just for a bit the watchers stare 

At this mail train, swift flying there, 



22 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

With noise and dust that fills the air, 

While dashing on. 
And now they turn and homeward trail, 
Tell what they've seen to all who hail, 
And how they like to watch the ^^Mail" 

That swift has gone. 

Again, the afternoon is still, 
Except the murmur of the rill, 
And rumble of the distant mill 

Down by the race. 
The station seems deserted, dead ; 
The bright wires w^hisper overhead 
That life once more has quickly fled 

From every place. 




SWITCH-LIGHTS. 23 



Cbc Coming of Ntgbt. 

There's a silence settling down 
OA'er hamlet, over town; 
Shadows grow into the night, 
Prom the windows gleam a light ; 
Limpid waters swish a song. 
As the night bird wings along; 
Bright the twinkling stars now shine, 
While v^e tremble down the line 
In the dark, now deepening more — 
Wond'ring what it holds in store — 
Wond'ring if the way be hard, 
And if angels stand on guard 
As we quiver on till dawn, 
Tow^ard the light of coming morn. 



^4 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

H Slumber Song* 

Here in my arms, my wee one, rest, 

And drift away to sleep, 
To wander 'mong the dream land paths 

While angels watch will keep. 
And though the wdnds sing loud and strong, 
Their wild, tempestuous, angry song. 

Sleep on, my darling, sleep. 

The winds rage out more fierce and loud 

About our cottage door, 
While 'bove their voice I seem to hear 

The train's swift rush and roar. 
That bears across the stormy night 
Thy father, on his homeward flight 

Toward love's bright, guiding door. 

Yes, dreaming one, wrapped warm and safe. 

Sleep on till break of day, 
While I will watch the long night through 

And for his safety pray; 
And ask that when the night is done. 
Again he-11 come from dangerous run 

To us, at dawn of day. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 25 

^^poor Kids/' 

Yes, sir! Our pa wuz killed — you bet 

He wuz — an' in the orfulest crash 
'At happened once when two trains met 

A-bustin' everything ter smash, 
An ^splodin' the biler, an' catchin' a-fire — 
An' nen they sent our ma a wire. 

Well, when the call-boy cumed 'at night 

A-poundin' us clean out o' bed, 
Why we we felt ez though we'd fight 

'Im, when he said our pa wuz dead, 
An' there wuz a wreck — nen ma she cried — 
An' so did we, cuz pa had died. 

But, sir, they brunged him home nex' day, 
The men did — what works on the road — 

An' there wuz tears 'n their eyes, an' they 
Jest brush't 'em away 'ith their sleeve; the load 

Wuz orful heavy fer 'em, too — 

An' we cried an' cried — an' wouldn't you? 

They berried him away up on the hill 

'Ith flowers, an' a lot uv evergreen. 
An' we jest try an' be so still 

An' try ter be good ter ma — an' not mean — 
Cuz pa had tole us ter alius mind 
Her, she wuz so good an' kind. 



26 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Sometimes we go down ter the yard, 
An' oflfen over round the shops — 

The men '11 pat our heads, an' wink hard 
An' try ter speak, but the tears jest stoijs 

The words up in their throats, an' their lids 

'LI close, an' nen they'll say — "Poor Kids!" 







SWITCH-LIGHTS. 27 



mho Can Cell? 

Oh! Who can tell, as years roll round, 

And seasons come and go, 
Who next will lie beneath the mound 
Where sparkles dew — or snow? 
Oh! Who can tell? 
Oh! Who can know? 

When leaving home to thread our way 

With ringing wheel and bell 
Along the steel — shall we next day 
Return alive and well? 
Oh! Who can know? 
Oh! Who can tell? 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



H Song* 

Oh, mj Master, signal me 
Through this deep, strange mystery. 
Crooked is the line of life — 
Full of danger, full of strife. 
But Thy signals let me see — 
Oh, my Master, signal me, 
Signal me. 

When there's danger round life's curve, 
Or I from the track might swerve — 
Lest some wreck might hapjjen there — 
This, Oh Master, is my prayer: 
That Thy hand will signal me 
Safely through life's mystery. 
Life's mystery. 

When at last I end life's run. 
And its weariness is done; 
When Thy terminal I near. 
And the welcome lights appear. 
May Thy signal wave to me: * 
^^Heaven's line is clear for thee. 
Clear for thee." 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



29 



Olben the Olbietle Blows* 

When the whistle blows, 

My dad's a-comin'; 
You jest bet I knows 

He's surely a-hummin' 
Down 'cross the creek — 
For that's his very trick 
When he's a-comin' down 
The hill into the town 

An' the whistle blows! 



When the whistle blows 

I leave my playin' 
Whether it's tops or shows, 

Or I'm a-Mayin' — 
An' run off to the track 
To give some signal back 
In answer to his own, 
An' to the deep, deep tone 
As the whistle blows! 




30 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

When the whistle blew 
That summer mornin- 
I had a feelin' new — 
'Twas like a warnin' 
That somethin' had gone wrong, 
A-keepin' dad so long, — 
It broke my mother's heart, 
'Though neighbors did their part 
After the whistle blew I 

Xow when the whistle blows. 

My heart begins achin' 
'Tis jest so full of woes, 

An' no mistakin'! 
For oyer daddy's grave 
The grass an' flowers wave, 
While we shed burnin' tears 
All through the lonesome years, 
When the whistle blows! 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 31 

'Xooh Out for the Switch, Chuck V 

In Memory of P. H. G. 

"Look out — 

for the — 

switch — 

Chuck!" 
The sick boy wildly waved his arm — 

His mind, once strong, had given way — 
And shouted out in dread alarm 

To one, his mate of school boy days — 
"Oh, Chuck!— 

Look out — 

for the— 

switch!'' 

"Look out — 

for the— 

switch — 

Chuck!'' 
And thus for a week his life wore on — 

The life of our schoolmate, brother, friend. 
Who, out in the early morning's dawn, 

Had struck the switch on the outer bend, 
"Oh, Chuck!— 

Look out — 

for the^ — 

switch!" 



32 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

^^Look out — 

for the — 

switch — 

Chuck!" 
And then the struggling life gave way; 

And one more home was sad and drear, 
While out on the road it was far less gay, 

For loss of him we held so dear. 
^^Oh, Chuck!— 

Look out — 

for the — 

switch !" 

'^Watch out— 

for the^ — 

switch — 

Chuck!'' 
Thus from the distant, unknown land, 
This friend and brother of the rail 
Methinks is calling — that his hand 

Will guard the switch for yonder veil — 
^'Oh, Chuck!— 

Cheer ! — 

I'm at— 

the switch!" 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 33 



Ht eventide- 



The western sun-kissed hills are shadowed; 

A sable mist, the east; 

Heaven's signal lights are blazing brightly 

While flies a lonely bird 

Across the way, where pants our racer 

Through perfumed evening air 

That dashes o'er our face in torrents; 

Past shafts that mark the dead. 

Around a curve of lurking terrors, 

Into the treacherous ^^points" 

Marked by the little green eyes winking 

In horror, as we crash 

Through many a quaint and curious village 

Where watch and wonder souls 

Who shrink — then stare — then wait and listen 

As in a cloud of dust we thunder. 

And echo and are lost 

To all— are folded in the pockets 

Of silent, creeping Night. 




34 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Cbrougb the fog. 

How silently out of the bosom of night 
The fog rises up for its onward flight! 
The fences stand like a line of ghosts — 
The smallest shrubs grow to good sized posts- 
Like Will-o'-th'-wisps seem the lamps of the town 
As this white terror creeps closer down; 
The church tower shortens — then fades from view 
At the silent touch of this phantom crew, 
And, one by one, the things that we know 
Are changed and lost as we blindly go. 

On! into this mystical shroud we dive, 

And through its dark depths we swiftly drive, 

With never a mark to guide us on — 

For the moon and the stars and the heavens are gone! 

The forests and meadows are ours no more — 

Suppressed is the sound of our heavy roar; 

The headlight rays are all beaten back 

Before revealing the hidden track; 

The mile posts — order boards — each switch light — 

Are buried and blurred from our anxious sight! 

Yet, deep in the mists as still as the tomb. 

We guide our trust through this awful gloom, 

As on we swing with a quickened breath, 

Defying the threats of lurking Death! 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 35 

Cbildbood'e prayen 

Oft in the evening's twilight hour, 

When all the land is bathed in gold, 
There seems to echo in my heart, 

The prayer learned in the days of old; 
'Tis "Now I lay me down to sleep" — 

And wafted up 'mid rush and roar, 
With spring of wheel and engine's leap. 

Come once again the lisping words: 
"I pray the Lord my soul to keep!" 

And as we sweep far o'er the land, 

By village and its shady tower. 
Or by the farm-cot's beacon lamp, 

The whisperings of the children's hour, 
With "Should I die before I wake," 

Comes to me 'cross the silent air — 
Together we the same prayer make, 

'Tis — should we meet the angel Death — 
We "pray the Lord my soul to take!" 

Thus through the night while others rest 

From many troubles of the day. 
There echoes in my chambered heart, 

The childhood's words I learned to pray — 
And as we rush beneath the stars 

That fitfully their watches keep, 
I love to think of her who taught 

Me, "Now I lay me down to sleep!" 



36 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



H Requiem. 

Hark! up through the stillness there comes a great 
crashing 
That echoes away across the night plains, 
While the skies are reflecting the fires fiercely 
flashing, 
That tell the sad tale of disaster to trains. 

This echo and crashing and the heavens now lighted, 
Tell, too, of the loss of men strong and brave, 

Of prayers that were offered by them, when they 
sighted 
This danger they knew would lead to the grave. 

So tread ever softly and bow the head lowly. 
And pray for those lying in Death's deep repose; 

Then chant some sad anthem while bearing on slowly 
These heroes who died in their blue over clothes. 

Muffle the great bells. 

Toll out the death knells. 
To honor those dead in their blue over clothes^ 

Set is their life's sun. 

Ended their last run — 
We carry the brave to their long last repose. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 37 

Bcticatb the dtndtng Sheets 

They held us till the wrecker flew 

Upon its errand to the dying; 
We wondered if the fated crew 

Among the dead w^ere lowly lying — 
If they were with the ones who meet 
Beneath the winding-sheet. 

There had been hell upon the line — 

A thundrous crash — night's heavens lighted — 

An awful silence pierced by cries 

Of tortured souls and men affrighted — 

Then rescuing those who now would meet 

Beneath the winding-sheet. 

The wreckers cleared the way again, 

That lay far down the night more haunted 

Because they died — these trusted men, 

Whose hearts were ne'er by danger daunted — 

That we might pass the fearful heat 

And silent winding-sheet. 

Great fires still burned, queer shapes were seen, 
And ghostlike men w^ere ever peering; 

Beyond their forms and in between, 
We traced, as we were slowly nearing, 

Outlines of bodies, arms and feet. 

Beneath the winding-sheet. 



38 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



We passed the wreck and took our way 
Beneath the glowing heaven, flying 

On toward the coming dawn of day, 
With heart and soul in anguish crying 

For those we ne'er again could greet — 

Those 'neath their winding-sheet. 




SWITCH-LIGHTS. 39 

Che Men at the Cbfottlc. 

Mounted high like Arab drivers 

On their camels, swift and true, 
Ride the men at the engine throttle, 

In the cabs, who dare and do. 
What a power they are controlling! 

What a pathway they must tread I 
Over prairies, deserts, mountains, 

Lightning-like their course is sped. 

How they love these powerful monsters 

That to them are things of life; 
How they pet them and caress them 

For their coming daily strife! 
These are steeds of power unmeasured; 

Hearts of fire and breath of flame; 
Strength lies in their steely muscles, 

And their speed has brought them fame. 

Silent are these engine-drivers, 

Mounted on their racer's back; 
Lips are sternly drawn in tightness, 

While they thunder down the track. 
They must have the surest judgment; 

Nerves must be like tempered steel; 
They must have the eye of eagle; 

Obligations strong must feel. 



40 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

They must know the treacherous roadway, 

"As the seamen know the sea;'' 
Safe to guide their iron chargers 

O'er this path where perils be. 
Should the line be fraught with danger, 

At their post they ever stay, 
Like the brave Pompeiian watchmen. 

Though their sky grew dark at day. 

With the time-card as their bible, 

Dispatchers' orders as their creed. 
They go whirling 'cross the country. 

And a nation's commerce lead. 
As a meteor through the heavens 

Speeding onward, leaves its light. 
So they wheel their human freightage 

On behind them through the night. 

Often do we see recorded 

How these brave men met their fate 
In the open, where their monsters 

Crashed in combat fierce and great. 
Though they're not the nation's soldiers, 

They are just as true and brave. 
And should have an honor equal 

That which crowns the soldier's grave. 




SWITCH-LIGHTS. 41 

€bc Sailors of the RatU 

Up and down the iron ladder, 

Running o'er the decks of cars, 
While the wheels seem growing madder 
As they rush beneath the stars — 
In the calm or in the gale 
Ride the Sailors of the Rail. 

Out across the morning meadows 

Fragrant with the new-mown hay, 
Or where rest the deepest shadows 
Of the night, where dangers play 
That oft cause their cheeks to pale, 
Ride these Sailors of the Rail. 

Firm and strong is their true friendship — 

Brothers, comrades, every one; 
Happy greetings from the kind lip 
Meet the lads, as from the run 

They come home with some new tale 
Of these Sailors of the Rail. 

What their thoughts are, when they sever 

Suddenly life's cord and go 
From this earthly ^^Run" forever, 
No one else will ever know — 
For alone they pass the Veil, 
Silent Sailors of the Rail! 



42 SWITCHLIGHTS. 

Cbe Captain of the Craiti^ 

Dressed iij) in blue, with buttons that shine, 

An' cap on th' side o' his head, 
With lantern polished and cleaned all fine 

With globe of white an' red, '^ 

AVith the rollin' gait of a seaman bold 

Who's rocked on the ocean main-=™ 
Walks a portlj^ man, who is, 1 am told, 

The Captain o' the train. 

He's big an' fat an' strong, I know — 

He looks it, every inch; 
He's ever an' ahvays on tli' go, 

An' from duty does not flinch. 
He gets his orders, then signals ahead, 

No matter in sun or rain; 
Quick on he jumps when '' 'Board" he's said- 

This Captain o' the train. 

He's Captain here — O yes, he is— 

In absolute command, 
An' each an' ail must duty do, 

To save a reprimand. 
His crew's a jolly crew to know; 

They love the steely main. 
An' love to be, when wild gales blow, 

With th' Captain o' the train. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 43 

He punches tickets — collects the fares 

From all, both young and old, 
An' smiles a smile that'll banish cares, 

Or thaw a heart that's cold. 
He's as jolly a fellow as ever can be— 

His friendship's worth while to gain, 
And pleased you'll feel whene'er you see 

This Captain o' the train. 

But don't forget that many a year 

He spent a-top o' th' ^^box," 
'An' often, too, was Death so near 
'S to tap him a couple o' knocks — 

An' many a day he ^^broke on freight" 
On different branch an' main. 

Till now, at last — though not too late- 
He's Captain o' the train. 




44 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Zht fatal Shot* 

The shot that killed was not of lead, 
Nor from the cannon's throat of flame, 

And yet this shot claimed one more dead. 
And from the daily press it came. 

The ^*shot" spoke in the briefest way 

About a wreck upon the rail — 
^^The fellow lived till dawn of day''— 

Was all it told of this sad tale. 

A thousand miles away, 'tis said, 
A mother held with stiffened hand 

The press — the '*shot" claimed one more dead, 
And it had reached across the land. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 45 



Retncmbratice of Cdorsbtp* 

One summer evening, in a village, 

People met to offer prayer — 
To chant glad anthems and sing praises 

That should ever lighten care; 
And as we stood there on the siding, 

"In to clear" the glistening main, 
We, too, with them in silence worshipped, 

While we waited for the train. 

First came the strains of dear "Old Hundred'^- 

Then a murmuring voice was heard 
In prayer which grew so strong and faithful 

That our heart to prayer was stirred. 
Then other voices from the chapel 

Reached us, as we listened there. 
In supplication of the truest — 

Passing heavenward through the air. 

Again sweet strains of blessed music 

From the church began to roll — 
"Blest be the tie" and "Only Jesus," 

"Jesus, lover of my soul." 



46 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

But while they chanted in their worship, 
Flashed on by the Night Express; 

Then we again went rushing onward 
Into night's deep loneliness. 

Ah! many hours of peace and comfort 

I have known came from that night 
When we in silence sat and worshipped 

For a season in our flight. 
Though never did 1 know these people — 

Strangers, they, in life's great throng — 
Still dear to me is the remembrance 

Of that hour of prayer and song. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



47 



Qlrttc a Letter Borne Co-nigbt* 

Write a letter home tonight, 

The folks are lone and sad; 
It will make the old place bright, 

And weary hearts feel glad, 
For to them you're still their child. 

Though far away you roam 
Over plain and ocean wild. 

Ten thousand miles from home. 



You may be an engineer. 

Or his most trusty mate. 
Or a .^^con'^ who knows no fear, 

On passenger or freight; 
You may be a switchman bold— 

A keeper of the light, 
But remember those of old 

And write to them tonight. 




^fe7 



48 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Though gray locks o'ershade your brow, 

Or youthful be your blood, 
Send to them a message now — 

With joy the old place flood; 
Tell, that oft in midnight dreams, 

You see the old fireplace 
With the love that shines and beams 

From every smiling face. 

So, write a letter home tonight, 

The folks are lone and sad; 
^Twill surely make the old place bright, 

And weary hearts feel glad. 
For, to them, you're still their child, 

Though far away you roam 
Over plain and ocean wild. 

Ten thousand miles from home. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 49 



Cbc Mirage on the Pbins. 

There rises o'er the shimmering plain, 

And hangs inverted in the air 
A city such as olden Spain 

Would never dared have builded there ! 
And from the gleaming, changing cloud 

Great granaries that hold the wheat 
Eeach earthward like a darkening shroud 

And cause the land and sky to meet. 

It changes into columns grand, 
Pompeiian this wonder scene— 

Now, few the shafts thiit lonely stand- 
But how they glitter through the sheen! 

Mosaic domes point to the ground, 
While mansions, silent, stand beside 

Long avenues that know no sound 
Of habitants who there abide. 

Ah! spirit hands must fashion them. 
And keep them ever on the wing; 

For as we reach each prairie gem 
That's threaded on our Iron String, 



50 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

These cities hanging in the air 
Keep moving on and dimmer shine, 

Until the spirits as they fly. 

Rebuild them further down the line. 

These phantom cities of the air 

That scud, inverted, o'er the plain. 
Are like our dreams and plans most fair — 

And like our ^^castles built in Spain-'. 
We chase them daily o'er life's way. 

They scarcely show, then nearer seem — 
And then mysteriously die away. 

To show again and stronger gleam. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 51 



Deep Into the )Vtgbt* 

Again we leave the sun and busy day, 

To pierce the night where dangers lie in wait. 
The world is swinging on at rapid rate; 
Now comes a wood where goblins nightly play, 
And now the acre where the dead ones stay; 
So all the smaller towns and cities great 
Are found and lost; behind is closed the gate 
Of light; and swiftly on we fly, away 

From all the busy world of pain and care, 

Prom crowded marts where mad men push and 
crush. 
Forgetting in their greed the laws of right, 
And caring not how doth their brother fare — 
O matchless steed I Bear me — not toward the 
rush 
Of world unfair — but deep into the gathering night. 



52 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc Message of Death. 

Again the eventide has come, 

Another day is dead, 
And all the land is covered o'er 

With clouds we so much dread. 
But from a home there on the hill, 

Where trains go rushing by, 
A light is shining through the dark, 

While storm-winds sadly sigh. 

And as there rumbles from the town 

The Limited Express, 
A child steps to the doorway bright, 

A child of golden tress,— 
And waves a signal through the storm 

To him, who's riding there. 
And facing now the stormy night, 

That adds to all his care. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Right close beside tlie child there stands 

The mother, young and true, 
And waves her hand to him out there, 

Who answers her, ^^Tool Too!'' 
When all his signals cease to sound, 

x4nd echoes die away, 
The mother and her loving child 

Go in and softly pray. 



I wonder whx the winds oft scream 

As moaning by they go. 
And why in troubled midnight dream 

The mother startles so? 
1 wonder Avhat the message sajs 

That seems their hopes to kill 
Just as the sun is rising high 

O'er vonder eastern hill? 




54 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc flight of the Blach flyer. 

Again was heard echoing the speeding Black Flyer, 
O'er the old Alleghanies — through Cumberland 
Dells, 

On toward the White City, bowed low in its sorrow, 
To rush on again amid deep tolling bells. 

The Flyer was shrouded in deepest of mourning, 
From pilot of engine to rear of the train; 

Though steady the hands that were guiding it onward, 
This duty to each gave the sharpest of pain. 

The burdens it carried — this rushing Black Flj^er— 
Were hearts that were broken by anguish and grief; 

Life's hopes for the future now shattered forever— 
A friend and a husband — a Nation's dead chief. 

The great iron pathway the people w^ere watching; 

They hailed from the work shop, the field and the 
mine, 
And the world — all its nations — a tribute was paying 

In tears, as the Flyer sped over the line. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 55 

On, on! through the daylight 'mid flowers and sun- 
shine; 

Down into the night that was haunted and drear. 
The Flyer went trembling and quivering and sobbing, 

While a soldier and sailor stood guard o'er the bier. 

High, high! o'er the voices of hammer and anvil, 
The thund'rous echoes were speaking in tears, 

With the roar of its fires calling out in their vengeance 
Against this foul murder — the foulest in years. 

And as the Black Flyer was panting and throbbing, 
Each click of the wheel or each sound from ahead, 

In the soul of a heart broken Nation vibrated. 

On this, its third journey, with the country's great 
dead. 



56 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Che Ntght morld. 

With the closiug of the day, 

And the setting of the sun, 
We must leave a world that's gay, 

Entering a different one,— 
The Night world, dark. 
Oh how dreary is this place, 

Where black shadows come and go, 
Holding near each others face, 

Smoky torches, burning low,— 
A tiny spark. 

This Night world is very great; 

Many a man is busy here, 
Delving, toiling by his mate, — 

Groping in the darkness drear. 
Yet oft alone. 
Forges blow and anvils ring. 

Hammers pound 'mid rasping file. 
Voices call and voices sing, — 

Quiet then reigns for a while, 
Like undertone, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 57 

Then, soon out 'neath beckoning stars, 

Twisting on across the land. 
Breaks the monster from his bars, 

Guided by a master's hand, 
Away, away! 
Rattling like sharp musketry 

Echoing out among the hills, 
Thundering like artillery, 

All the great Night world it fills 
In wild affray. 

Waking people from their dreams, 

Quivering by '*that Quiet Place^', 
On across the world it screams, 

In the madness of the race, 
Yes, on and on! 
Till at last this iron beast, 

As he speeds the Night world through, 
Sees afar off in the east 

Brighter worlds, all wet with dew, 
Toward breaking dawn. 

Travelers know not of this world 

Of the night, but soundly sleep, 
And along are swiftly whirled 

Over plains and mountain steep, 
At rapid rate. 



58 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Should they wake, they know not why 
They again their slumber seek; 

'Tis because the sun-used eye, 
In the Night world is too weak 
To penetrate. 

Oh, the workers of the night! 

Years they labor in the dark, 
Ever buried from the sight 

Of the sun, or singing lark 
High in the sky; 
In this world they are like moles; 

With a light they burrow it. 
Filling it with smoky holes. 

As they move, or as they set 
Their torch close by. 

Million dusky workers there, — 

Shadows passing to and fro, 
Often wish for daylight fair, — 

But, to sleep they surely go, — 
Are lost once more 
To those of the world of Sun, 

Who now toil while others sleep, 
Working on till day is done. 

And the Night world 'gain will peep 
Through Eastern door. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



59 



Clbo mm Cell the Story? 

Who will tell the awful story? 

Who, Ah who! will tell the tale 
Of the wreck and all the carnage 

That has happened on the rail? 



Who will dare to speak the message 
To the loved ones far away? 

To the sweetheart, wife, or mother, 
Golden locks or those of gray? 

Who will stand that hour of trial 
When the heart shall break in tears, 

As you stammer out the story — 
As you change the coming years? 




If the task is yours, my brother. 

Speak the words — for some one must— 

And though they should nearly strangle, 
In the Father put your trust. 



60 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



8cei!i' the Steam Cars Come* 

The steam cars 're coming 

Let's watch 'em whizzin' bj; 
I hear the whistle sereechin'— 

They're gettin' purty night. 
Oh hurry! or we'll miss 'em! 

Yes, sure! You bet we will; 
Let's cut acrost the garden— 

The pigs can wait fer swill! 

Git-t"t~S=c-o=o=o=t ! Ru'Uu n ! 

An' never mind the bars! 
Say— what if father calls? 

We're goin' ter see the cars. 
Hur-r-r-ry!— Go-o-o-o it! (they fall). 

Oh there's the engine! Pshaw! 
They're gone!— an' there is Pa 

A-chasin' of us all! 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 61 



H Bo/9 Hnibtttoti* 

O could 1 leave my school and books, 

Leave, too, my quiet home, 
To speed by day o'er laughing brooks, 

At night 'neath starry dome, 
Across the plain and mountain park, 

Through tunnels black with gloom, 
I'd sing as gay as yonder lark,— 

The wide world be my room. 

For if I hear the whistle scream, 
Or note the clanging bell, 

Vm sure, that night, to dream and dream- 
Sweet dreams I dare not tell; 

Because my father would look sad, 
My mother shed hot tears, 

And sister call me "mean-' and "bad-' 
For one so young in years. 

But every time I get a chance, 

I slip down by the track. 
To watch my beauty run and prance, 



62 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

While switching forth and back; 
And should my ^^gods" who guide her there, 

Just wink or speak to me, 
The whole world seems to me as fair 

As heaven can ever be. 

I love to smell her smoke so black, 

I love her thundering tread, 
And hold my ear down to the track 

Till all her sounds are dead. 
I love to watch her flashing by. 

With headlight all ablaze; 
I love to hear her voice outcry, 

While winding in her ways. 

A doctor I will never be; 

1 will not study law; 
Nor will I run away to sea. 

As, when a boy, did Pa; 
I will not be a butcher-man. 

Nor brew the nasty beer; 
But I will be all grease and tan, 

A brave young engineer. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



tn^c UXipcv. 

Dirty, greasy, black and grim, — 
This is the outside of him, 
As in overclothes he stands, 
Wiping down with oily hands, 
This great steed that won the race, 
And here takes her accustomed place. 

Hope now strong within him burns. 
And he well his lesson learns, 
Even if the time drags slow. 
Till across the land he'll go 
As the engineer's proud mate. 
Though it only be ^^on freight". 

Happy, jovial, blithe and gay. 
Wipes this lad, by night or day; 
Whistles loud, or sings a song; 
Yet ambition's pulse is strong. 
And at last this greasy boy 
Is rewarded, — then, what joy! 




64 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

My Boyhood Oreams, 

those glad days 'neatli summer's sun, 
In shaded glen down by the run. 

Where sang the birds and hummed the bees, 

Where softest zephyrs kissed the trees, 

And flowers peeped up to the sky, 

As fleecy clouds went sailing by,— 

Where flowed the murmuring, babbling streams, 

As I in boyhood dreamed my dreams. 

My dreams were such as bur a boy 
Can dream, and dream, and just enjoy; 

1 dreamed of th' wide, wide w^orld, so gay, — 
That I as a man, and done with play, 
Could travel far over land and sea; 

I dreamed of the future that was to be, 
Then closed my eyes to the bright sunbeams 
To dream again these boyhood dreams. 

O where are those days 1 loved so welK— 
The singing brook, — the shady dell,— 
And dreams that came so oft to me? 
They're gone, a part of life's past to be; 
And now I dream of those days of joy, 
And not of the future, as when a boy; 
My manhood's care oft lightened seems 
By memories of my boyhood dreams. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 65 



C-wo (nandercrs. 

Two VTee robins in a nest; 
One flew east and one flew west; 
Both grew tired and wished for rest 
Back there in the old home nest. 

Two wee pets at mother's knee; 
One chose the rail and one the sea; 
Many's the time they long to be 
Back again at mother's knee. 



66 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc eatiti^-Bou9C Crew* 

An' now I'll sing with the point o' me pen, 

A song o' the Eatin' House Crew — 
O' who they are, an' o' what they say, 

An' the kindly deeds that they do; 
For there, just over the noisy way, 
By lamps o' night, an' by sun o' day, 

Work ever the Eatin' House Crew. 

Now^, Sally Muldoon — Yard Master is she 
O'er the helpers who're laborin' there, 

A-tendin' the hungry who come to be fed 
On the delicate (?) Eatin' House fare; 

An' Mollie, an' Bridget, an' Hannah, an' Rose, 

Are Sally's sweet helpers, whom every one knows, 

An' are alwavs found hustlin' there. 

*' * 

In the mornin' 'tis ^^Beefsteak an' bacon an' eggs — 

Tea, coffee or milk" — if you're dry; 
At noon comes "^Roast beef an' pork with some sauce, 

An' apple an' gooseberry pie!" 
At evenin' they sing ^^Cold meats or some hash!" 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



67 



Why, say! you're enchanted by them in a flash! 
Then look at your meal with a sigh. 

And last, but not least of their work-a-day life, 
Are the kindly deeds that they do 

To help some poor wanderer, weary an' lone. 
Or traveler journeyin' through. 

Then let us remember these seeds that they sow, 

An' not the tough steak or bread that is dough. 
But cheer for the Eatin' HoUse Crew! 




68 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Vhc Song of the fxvcmcn. 

O we are those 

In overclothes 
Who work 'mid grease and dust, 

To scour and clean 

The great machine 
And scrape away the rust. 

With shovel and pick 

And fire door click, 
We hustle in the coal 

That speaks of tons, 

The hardest runs 
And whitehot furnace hole. 

Our hands get sore, 

Yet more and more 
The monster must be fed; 

Though muscles ache, 

While nerves oft quake. 
And throbs our weary head. 



SWITCH-LtGHTS. 69 



111 darkest night 
Or morning light. 

From out the beating stack 
Smoke pours in clouds, — 
They hang like shrouds 

Of death along our track. 

So thus you see 

From sea to sea 
We furnish all the power 

That gives the speed 

To this great steed, 
For ninetv miles an hour. 



70 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Longing for Rome* 

The snow-oapx)ed peaks are silent 

And glint in the moon's soft rays; 
The cataract madly thunders 

Over its s^ony ways; 
The mountain track is dreary, 

The valley dark and wide, 
And my heart is full of longing, — 

A longing I cannot hide. 

Yes, lonesome tonight my heart is, 

For home and its loved ones dear, 
While I am alone in the mountains 

With nothing my soul to cheer; 
And they are away in the East Land, — 

And O, do they miss me still, 
And are they lonely as I am, 

With breasts aching spite of their will? 

But as we go upward climbing, 
And cling to a shelf-like ledge, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 71 

My heart throbs like that of the engine, 

Then pounds like a heavy sledge, 
With these thoughts possessing me ever, 

In my lonesome moments here, — 
To be just at home with the loved ones, 

And share in each smile and each tear. 

Yes, all that is wildest in nature, 

Is atune to my aching breast, 
And in lonesomeness oft I am longing 

For home, and homelike rest. 
Oh you, white peaks, now a-glisten! 

You cataracts thundering wild! 
You valleys deep! Soothe me, and quiet 

The heart of this wandering child. 



72 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Che Night express* 

The many hills are bathed in sunset; 

Red is all the western sky; 
The heavens are being again re-jeweled 

With bright stars that twinkle high; 
The shadows deepen through the woodland; 

Swiftly fly the birds to nest, 
For night is spreading out her black wing, 

While we ride where we love best. 

By greenest meadows where at noonday 

Cattle browsed and lambkins played — 
By mighty forests where is ever 

Happy songs in daytime shade; 
Then, flashing past the shadowy farmhouse 

Where a light is gleaming bright, 
From whose doorway peers a ghost-face 

Watching us ring down the night. 

On, over rivers swiftly rushing. 

Over brooks that whisper low, 
Round the lakes where are reflected 

Moon and stars that brightly glow; 
Past many a city now so quiet 

Like the cities of the dead, 
We rush and clatter through them — by them- 

In the cab up here ahead. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 73 

Now miduight bells are tolling, tolling, 

Slow the moon sails 'cross her sea; 
The great Night-World grows yet more silent — 

A^apors warm, rise from the lea. 
Ere long the east with light is breaking, 

Pinker grow the morning clouds; 
We now can watch our beauty shaking, 

Far behind her blackest shrouds. 

Across the prairies and the grain fields. 

Like a sea they glisten now, 
On by the pumpkins in the corn-rows, 

Past all these we swiftly plow; 
And past the farmhouse, once more wakeful. 

And the cities, now alive. 
We crash ahead — they're left behind us. 

As at ^^sixty miles" we drive! 

So, far away and o'er the country 

Speed we on our steeled way. 
High-mounted on this iron racer, 

From the night into the day. 
O how we laugh and urge her onward! 

Speak in love and give caress! 
'Tis thus she keeps her speed and rushes 

Forward! Homeward! The Night Express! 



T4 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 




€be Man at the ''Key*^ 



A center point of nerves is he, 
This busy man, alone at the ^^key," 
Who carefully watches the living wires, 
In which are hidden the lightning's fires. 



He feels the pulse beat of far away lands 
Passing under his steady hands; 
'Tis thus the thoughts he can understand, 
That circle the earth by sea and land. 

Now comes a message of birth — now death — 
Now havoc wrought by the storm's wild breath- 
Now words of joy and love pass on 
To cheer some soul at the early dawn. 

And now the rush of the iron soul 
He stops a moment, then, taking control, 
He touches a nerve that sets it free 
To thunder again on toward the sea. 

The very thoughts of nations, he reads — 
Of pauper and king, and of all their deeds. 
For he is in touch with these nerve-like wires 
In which are hidden the lightning's fires. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 76 



Cbc Cbousand-'Coii projectile* 

While talkin' 'bout yer rifle balls, an' cannon shells 

an' sich, 
An' how they kill the soldiers dead, er plow a nasty 

ditch, 
Er scoot fer miles acrost the sea an' raise the dickens, 

too, — 
Jes' don't fergel the Thousand-Ton Projectile whizzin' 

through. 

It's loaded iu the big train shed that holds a dozen 

more, 
An' when the 'spatcher sounds his "key", it starts off 

with a roar, 
An' with a hiss an' ringing' pound, this thunderbolt 

of man, 
This Thousand-Ton Projectile here, goes borin' 'crost 

the Ian'. 

Two hundred yards, er twenty miles 's the best yer 

guns can shoot, 
But clear acrost the continent will this projectile 

scoot, 
An' at that distance no one cares in front the thing 

to be, 
As with a rush an' piercin' scream it twists from sea 

to sea. 



76 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Jes^ like some impish thing of hell it clatters through 
the day, 

An' then aerost the night its flash seems like the 
lightnin's play; 

Yet this projectile, you kin bet, is under strict com- 
mand — 

It quivers at a hundred miles, or quietly will stand. 

Your gunners let their singin' things go on alone till 

lost, 
But this ^ere one is vallyble, an; made at awful cost, 
So two brave fellers er up prhead, an' three back 

there inside. 
To guide this thousand tons erlong, w^hile man stands 

w^onder-eyed. 

It brings both life an' death, it does,— an' love an' 

hate an' things, 
An' hurries human souls erlong, that to its inside 

clings ; 
To some brings w^ealth; some poverty, some joy, some 

sorrow feel— 
The mission of this massive weight,— this thousand 

tons of steel. 

So w^hen you speak erbout yer guns, an' bout the 

shots they make, 
An' what they cost,=^an* all that stufiP,=— jes' won't 

you kindly take 
An' flgger up the OTHER cost, since builders first 

began 
This Thousand-Ton Projectile here — this Thunderbolt 

of man! 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 77 



Sand* 



'Tis sand, my boys, you're sure to need 
While journeying on the Road of Life; 

And oft you'll find as on you speed, 
'Twill help you in your daily strife. 

Ah! slippery is the upward grade, 
And often, too, the level track 

In stormy night or noonday shade 
Will need some sand or you'll slide back. 

Use sand each day, and you'll not fail; 

'Twill help to hold yourself in check; 
Sand helps to brighten wheel and rail, — 

'Tis sand that often saves a wreck. 



78 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Brighter Days Vc Cotntti\ 

What if things go crosswise 

Along Life's busy line, 
What if there is many 

A light that fails to shine? 
Brighter 

days 

're 

comin', 
An' comin' to us who 
Go whizzin' 'cross the country 
The changin' year all through! 

What if winds be blowin' 

An' sun behind a cloud? 
What if storms 're brewin' 
An' thunders boomin' loud? 

Brighter 

days 

're 

comin', 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 79 

Yes, comin' mighty soon; 

An' warm 'II be the sunshine 

A-beatin' down at noon! 

What if cares 're pressin', 

An' sorrow seems our lot? 
Or we lose life's battles, 

So they be nobly fought? 
Brighter 

days 

're 

comin', 
An' comin' to us all; 
They'll dawn when life looks darkest — 
When we're about to fall! 

So when you see a feller 

A-frettin' 'bout the day, 
Jest slap him on the shoulder 

An' to him gaily say — 
"Brighter 
days 

're 

comin', 
or man, an' friend of mine. 
Why see, the clouds 're liftin' 
An' soon the sun '11 shine!" 



80 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc Cower Man. 

High up in the little semaphore tower, 
A lone man is standing, hour after hour, 
Who handles many a steely ^4ever", 
And dares not make a mistake — no, never! 

By day or night, 

For then he might 
Switch many a soul down the valley of Death, 
Where winds are blowing their withering breath. 




SWITCH-LIGHTS. 81 

""Ro! ?natcbtiiati tn the Vowcv/' 

Ho! watchman in the tower! 

Keep all the signals clear, 
To guide the racing monster 

Whose thunders lond I hear; 
For, following on behind him 

Are full a hundred souls 
Who have no thought of danger. 

As swiftly on he rolls. 

Yes, watchman in the tower, 

Let not the lights burn dim, 

But keep them well in trim 

To light the darkness grim. 
And guide yon charging power. 

Ho! watchman in the tower! 

May God stand by your side. 
And help yon give the signal 

To all who toward you ride, 
That they may pass on safely. 

Far down the crowded line, 
And on beneath the heavens 

Where his own switch-lights shine. 

Yes, watchman in the tower. 

Keep all the signals right — 

In place each guiding light 

Throughout the weary night. 
That shortens hour bv hour. 



82 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Morning Cbtmce* 

The chimes are tolling the morning tide; 
The world to the east doth silently ride, 

Yet darkness is still in command; 
While brightly the gleam of the high headlight, 
Plays back to the stars of the lonesome night— 

Switch-lights of the Better Land. 

The beacon lamp in the farmhouse glows; 
On by, in the darkness, the village goes. 

And we are riding alone; 
While with the chimes, there echoes away. 
To meet the dawn of the coming daj', 

The engine-belFs deep tone. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 83 



jewels of the Line. 

Precious jewels of the line, 
All your beauty now is mine; 

How I watch you 

All the night through, 
While at dark you brightly shine 

Down the line. 

Diamonds with your ^^white light'' clear, 
Kubies telling ^^danger's near,'' 

Sapphires glaring, 

^^Now repairing," 
Emeralds, ^^cautioning," too appear — 

All give cheer. 

Jewels, precious jewels, fair, 
Priceless is your shining there. 

While you're guiding 

Trainmen, riding 
In the storm or calm night air, 

By your glare! 



84 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc Cwo Callers* 

At midnight hour or noonday sun, 
In summer's rain or winter's blast, 
And when we wisli life's ease might last, 

Again he calls us for our run, 
The Call Boy grim and black. 

So when we're safe at home in sleep. 
Or when we're rushing down the line 
Beneath the skies where bright stars shine, 

There often calls and stealth'ly creeps 
Grim Death along the track. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



85 



Cbc engine BclU 

Just as we are about to start 
From out the stations, off to dart 
Through changing scenes, I do my part, 

By singing loud my warning song — 

^aMng-g-g! Dong-g-g! 

Ding-g-g! Dong-g-g!" 

But when we speed away too fast, 
An' I think each turn will be the last. 
My tongue rolls round its brassy cast, 

And then 1 speak with loudest clang — 

"Ker-Lang ! Ker-Lang ! 

Ker-ter-ker-lang !'' 

I ring out o'er the dangerous way 
My steady warning, night and day, 
To those who work and those who play, 

As near the roads I speed alon<^-— 

^'Ding-g-g! Dong-g-g! 

Ding-g-g ! Dong-g-g !" 

And after each and every trii) 
You find me silent, though my lip 
Is always waiting for the tip 

That oft has caused it loud to clang- 
^*Ker-Lang-g-g! Ker-Lang-g-g! 

Ker-ter-ker-lang-g-g !" 




86 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

batting Rearts* 

Yes, there are many waiting hearts, 

Who now are watching for the ones 
Swift speeding 'tween the busy marts, 

In charge of all the different runs; 
Who watch and hope for the return 

Of all their loved ones riding there. 
And as the hearth fires brightly burn. 

They oft in silence breathe a prayer. 

Whene'er the sun shines clear and bright. 

They're watching, praying faithfully; 
And when the lamp shines out at night, 

They hope its rays the loved will see 
As wearily they come along 

Up through the dark, to where their home 
Shows forth this light; to hear a song 

And know they're loved, though far thej^ roam. 

But oh, those loving hearts who wait 

For those who will not come to-day 
From runs that are ^^on time" or '4ate" — 

Who underneath some wreck now lay — 
O hearts that bleed! 'Tis not in vain 

You wait, for when Life's run is o'er. 
You'll meet the dearly loved again, 

Who've passed Death's Tunnel, just before. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 87 



i3bc Supreme JMahen 

There flashes down the steel highway, 
And screams along across the night, 
The Thunder Bird of iron might, 

Whose voice goes forth to meet the day, 
While chasing now the fleeing night. 

And as it flies on toward the sun. 
Waking the earth from slumbering, 
I care not who has made this thing 

And mastered it — but, to the One 

Who made the Man, will tribute bring. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Xt9 evening, Love* 

'Tis evening, love, another day is done; 

The unknown night steals toward the west, 
While through the twilight gates I speed the run, 

And hasten to thy loving breast. 

Kind angels show their finger-tips to me, 
And point out clear the crooked line 

That leads afar across the land to thee; 
For thee, my love, they also shine. 

The pealing chimes declare the midnight hour — 
The moon floods all with silvery light, 

While shadows change, cast by the village tower; 
Soon, love, we'll meet beyond the night. 

Each flower and leaf the dew is kissing now — 
The dawn's most tender breezes blow, 

And in their freshness breathe upon my brow; 
It seems like thee — they soothe me so. 

And thus the night and miles are left behind, 
While in the sun's pure, reddening tide 

I hurry with the speed of swiftest wind, 
To once a^ain be at thv side. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



89 



8ernapborc9* 



Great, tall, ungainly things 

Are semaphores; 
Yet all have signalings, — 

All semaphores. 
We wonder in our mind 
While chasing like the wind — 
If these are "right'' displayed, 
Or shall we be delayed 

By semaphores. 

With wide extended arm 

Our semaphores 
By day warn us of harm, — 

Sure semaphores! 
At night when all is black 
Along the steely track. 
With gleaming eyes, bright red, 
The danger light is shed 

From semaphores. 




90 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

When they're at ^'danger'' set — 

Wrong semaphores — 
We may not past them get — 

Safe semaphores! 
AVhen arms are lowered down 
And red lights cease to frown, — 
When white is showing strong 
Then we can speed along 
Past semaphores. 

By day and night we look 

For semaphores; 
We read them like a book, — 

These semaphores; 
Always in darkest night, 
Ever in broad daylight. 
Through wind, or hail, or snow, 
We look out, as we go. 

For semaphores. 

So, in the world, each one 

Are semaphores, — 
To act along Life's run 

As semaphores. 
We raise or lower our arm, 
For "No I" — or "Yes, there's harm!'' 
Thus helping travelers through, — 
The least that we can do 

As semaphores. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



91 



Ceriniiial Lights* 

Far out in the midnight mists they shine,- 

The ^^Terminal Lights" aglow, 
That guide the trains safe in from the line, 
With many a different flash and sign, 

To bid them ^Tast!" or ^^Slow!'' 



How keenly the "sailors of the rail", 

All watch for terminal lights; 
When ending a trip where the great wheels trail, 
In winter's frost, or in autumn's gale, 

Far down the weary nights. 



As we the heavenly terminal near, 

And shorter grows life's rail, 
May its shining lights dispel all fear 
And signal us, "The way is clear 
To pass within tLe Veil." 




92 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Skies in east from gray turn red,~~ 
Radiance o'er the land is shed; 
One by one, from heavenly heights, 
God takes in his star switch lights; 
Darkness creeps on toward the west, 
Sunbeams streak the eastern crest; 
Morning breezes gently blow 
'Gainst our faces, as we go 
From the night, into the dawn, 
Gleaming, echoing swiftly on 
Toward the day, with thundering tread, 
While the angels guard overhead. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 93 



Moimitig perfumes. 

It is in the early morning. 

Just before the breaking light, 
YV^hen we tired are from driving 

Down across the lonely night, 
That there comes from every blossom 

Fragrance pure and sweet in kind, 
Wafted to us o'er the country 

By the perfume-laden wind. 
Coming from the budding forest, 

From the fields now growing green, 
From the blossoms of the apples, 

And from plum trees in between, 
Up from field and marsh and meadow. 

And the thousand hills of God, 
Where the countless birds are feeding 

On the sparkling dewy sod. 

As we breathe these priceless perfumes 

In the early morning light. 
We forget about the dreary, 

Weary lonesomeness of night. 
So, while with the winds we're chasing, 

We drink in this scented air, 
And to Him who gives the blessing 

Offer up a thankful prayer. 



94 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Siitirisc* 

Once more we seek a world that is made new, 
And swiftly leave the dark, and hurry on 
Out toward the golden gates of coming dawn, 

That, with an echoing crash, we soon rush through, 

To there discover jewels made of dew 

On grass and leaf — they sparkle — then are gone. 
As we whirl by, and ever and anon 

Dame Nature takes her breath of life most true; 

While all the muscles of our iron steed 
Are now a-tremble in the gathering light. 
And with the wing of waking bird she flies 

Into the breaking day; once more is freed 
And broken from the grasp of darkest night 
To sing and glisten 'neath the morning skies. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



95 



Ht the Station. 



Come, let's go to the station 

To see the trains fly in, 
An' watch the kindly welcome 

To those who far have been, 
Aw^ay across the country, 

A-visitin' loved ones dear; 
Or been away a-buryin' 

Some one from 'mong us here. 

Yes, Bill, I like to watch 'em 

These heavy crowded trains 
That come so mighty quick lil: . 

In from the distant plains; 
An' see the great big ingin' 

A-pantin' like she'd die — 
An' see the grimy faces 

Up in the cab so high. 

I wonder if them fellers 
Are really human kind — 

The ones that boss this monster 
Aij' alius make it mind' 




96 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Do they have hearts like ourn, 

An' love to be 't home? 
I wonder, have they children 

They loves, as we onr own! 

There's many different peoples 

What ride there in the car; 
There's some from furrin nations, 

An' ourn, near an' far; 
There's some come from the country, 

An' some from different town; 
There's peoples white an' yaller. 

An' them that's black an' brown. 

There's lots uv "good bye" kisses. 

The same uv welcomin's; 
An' lots uv hearty han' shakes 

That luck to each un brings; 
There's tears uv bitter sorrer. 

An' laugh an' sunny smiles; 
There's words uv cheer an' comfort, 

An' them as sometimes riles. 

Say, now, I'll tell you, Billyum, 
What makes mo laugh out loud, 

An' that's when some young couple 
Comes shyin' through the crowd, 

A-holdin' each one's fingers, 
An' lookin' — oh so sweet! 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 97 

An' then get in the coaches 
An' cuddle in a seat. 

But when J see some sad face 

Against the winder pane, 
An' eyes all red an' swollen, 

An' cheeks with tears a-stain, 
I feel my ole heart thumpin' 

Aroun' here in my ves'; 
They must have lost some loved one 

Away out in the Wes'. 

Let's hurry to the station, 

To see the many sights; 
To see the big Conductor 

Drest in his slick blue tights, 
An' his two funny brakemen 

Who like to put on airs, 
A-helpin' uv the ladies — 

First down, then up the stairs. 

Say, Bill, w^on't I be happy 

When my time comes along, 
To take the awsome journey 

Up where there's sweetest sonjr. 
An' greetin's uv the kindest. 

From them as have no caro. 
But 're waitin' at the station 

For me, far "over there!" 



98 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Cbc Builders* 

Away from the world and all alone, 

Are beings who work the livelong day; 
Where, hid from sight by walls of stone, 

They fashion and build in a wonderful way, 
From iron and copper, and steel and brass, 

The iron monarch that rides the rail. 
And puts a life in the steely mass — 

A mystic life, 'neath its coat of mail. 

O wonderful builders these workers are, 

Who stand at the forges white with heat — 
Who measure and cut to perfection each bar, 

Who hurry and scurry, though weary their feet; 
So true is each mind, so steady each hand, 

That's working alone — or times with a mate — 
That soon may speed toward a distant strand, 

This wonderful monarch — at fearful rate. 

All honor to men who are laboring here, 

And who, by the mind that is given of God, 
Can draw, from the mines of earth most drear, 

Then fashion and build by blow and nod 
This iron Beauty — this Pride of Time — 

This greatest production of puny man; 
Yes, honor our Vulcans — and honor the chime 

Their labor makes, as but labor can. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 99 



Bci* Daily Course* 

Out of the village and out of the town, 
Into the forest red and brown, 
Rumbling and roaring I rush along — 
I, of steel and steam made strong. 

Round the curve, and dow^n the hill, 
'Cross the bridge, and by the mill, 
Through the woods, and b}' the lake, 
This, my dailj^ course, I take. 

By the hamlet, and by the farm, 
Over the culvert fraught with harm; 
Turning and twisting like a snake, 
Such is the daily course I take. 

Stopping a moment, off I speed. 
Over the country, naught I heed. 
Day or night time, ever I stand. 
Ready to yield to my master's hand. 

L.orc. 



100 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Co Bob* 

How swiftly mem'ry carries me 

Back to our boyhood days, 
Where once again I seem to be 

With children at their plays; 
But best of all the old-time fun — 

O Bob, I've not forgot! — 
Twas when we took a railroad run 

Around the old back lot. 

1 often had my Avork to do, 

But you would come along 
And call to me, ^^Come on here, you, 

An' play! Ding-dong I Ding-dong !'' 
Sometimes I'd leave my task and go; 

Sometimes you did the same, 
To ring the bell — the whistle blow, 

And every station name! 

A few rode in our ^^Red Express,'^ 

Wheelbarrow and dog cart. 
Who urged us if our speed grew less — 

But cheered us at the start 
With their— "Too! Too! Git offen the track! 

The train's a-comin' erlong! 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 101 

The signaFs right fer Bob an' Jack! — 
Tool Too! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!'' 

You said that you would be a *^eon/' 

And wear the blue and gold, 
And that you would keep riding on 

Until you had grown old; 
1 said I'd be an engineer 

And ride ahead your train, 
And haul you throughout every year 

Far over hill and plain. 

The years rolled on till J:hat glad day 

When we had reached our goal, 
And we talked o'er our childhood play, 

As backward mem'ry stole. 

* * * * 

To-day, O Bob, I miss your face, 

That once so brightly shone; 
I miss you in the old-time place — 

I miss your cheery tone; 

Yet oft at night methinks I see 

Your signal in the sky, 
And from the heavens there comes to me 

That old-time childhood cry: 
^To-o— Too! Too-too! Git offen the track! 

The train's a-comin' erlong! 
The signal's right from Bob fer Jack! — 

Too! To-o! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!" 



102 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc One-eyed IMotisten 

O, I am a monster of terrible mien, 
Thundering along unsought, unseen; 
In wind or hail, in rain or snow, 
I'm ever and always on the go. 

I'm made of iron and steel and brass, 
Fitted and bolted — a monstrous mass; 
I make the earth tremble, and woods resound, 
As I speed over the changing ground. 

My heart is fire, kept always bright 
To produce the vapor that gives me my might; 
My muscles are steel of the strongest known; 
My voice 1 sound in a deaf ning tone. 

One eye I have, that at night doth shine, 
Revealing the crookedness of the line. 
And the treacherous track down which I speed; 
O such an eye is of worth indeed! 

Yes, I am a monster of terrible might; 
My rumbling is heard though I'm out of sight; 
A cloud of dust follows close in my trail, — 
I'm the one-eyed monster that speeds the rail. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



103 



Che Hnatiiae Club* 



All sailors love their salt sea yarn^ 

Of ocean, ship and wave — 
Of every land that now is known- 

Of every island cave — 
Of every ship that rocks the deep, 
Or vigils with the fishes keep 

O'er many an ocean grave. 

So, too, the men who sail the land. 
And far from home oft go — 

On-speeding day and night the same. 
Though winds should rage and blow — 

Are those who love to tell some tale 

Of what has happened on the rail. 
As they went to and fro. 




They tell their yarns of fearful storm. 
When ghosts were really seen — 



104 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

When voices queer were often heard 

Wherever wreck had been — 
And how they trembled when they saw 
That they were rushing towards Death's jaw, 

And knew what it might mean. 

Then '^13's'' come, and ^Triday runs''— 

Unlucky things are they — 
The ^^Sunday change" they hate to make, 

For this is "Holy Day." 
Then come the engines knovv^n for luck, 
With others that are sure to buck — 

Of these there's lots to say. 

That all might have a chance to tell 
What they have seen and heard 

While sailing o'er the steely way 
With wing of swiftest bird — 

They formed a club of curious kind. 

Where each could ease and free his mind, 
Whene'er the spirit stirred. 

So when you see a railroad man. 

Just ask him — if you care — 
About this Ananias Club, 

And how its members fare — 
To tell you of these things that's true, 
Of ghostly places, old or new, 

And tales that raise the hair. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 105 



Ob, Slbcrc Is Vommy Cuckcn 

Oh, where is Tommy Tucker? Does anybody know? 
The little Tommy Tucker I knew long, long ago; 
Whose head of curls was golden like skies at set of 

sun; 
Whose eyes were blue and sparkling and brimming 

o'er with fun. 
But since those days of childhood he's wandered to 

and fro — 
Oh, where is Tommy Tucker? Does anybody know? 

He was his mother's darling; she taught him little 

prayers — 
She held him to her bosom and hummed most tender 

airs, 
Then tucked him in the cradle o'er which kind angels 

stood 
To guard him from all evil and guide him t'ward the 

good; 
And oh! she knew that sometime he far from her 

must go; 
Oh, where is Tommy Tucker? Does anybody know? 



106 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

When but a little toddler he ^^wuned away'' one day 
Off over to the meadows where happy lambkins play, 
And when they found wee Tommy and waked him 

from his sleep, 
He said he'd ^^dweamed" of oceans and caves where 

fishes leap; 
Oh, now I wonder does he lie where deep waters flow? 
Oh, where is Tommy Tucker? Does anj^body know? 

One day when he was older and growing t'ward the 

man. 
He left his home and schoolbooks and far away he 

ran 

Despite the strong entreaties of mother — father 

—ail- 
But no one saw him leave home that dreary day in 

fall; 
I've read of great disasters to trains that come 

and go; 
Oh, where is Tommy Tucker? Does anybody know? 

Some say he sails the ocean, some say he sails the 

land, 
But I have ne'er since met him among life's busy 

band, 
And often do I wonder if waters cover him, 
Or do the winds of heaven when burn the fires dim, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 107 

Just toss his ashes thither, with other dusts that 

blow? 
Oh, where is Tommy Tucker? Does anybody know? 

I cannot find poor Tommy — I cannot find him, sir! 

And oh! his dear old mother — oh, how I pity her! 

So should you hear about Tom, and learn that he's 
alive, 

Or that his grave is marked, sir, — oh won't you quick- 
ly drive 

And tell her where he is, sir, — or where his grave 
flowers grow? 

Oh should you hear of Tommy, I pray you, let her 
know! 



308 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Slattttig for the Callcv* 

Dear wife, let us rest in the sunset that is bathing the 

hills in gold, 
And let us renew the pledges of a love that ne'er can 

grow cold, 
For though our hair may be whiter than forty years 

ago, 
Our hearts are as fond and tender, and with love our 

faces glow 
As bright as when you a maiden, and I, a brawny 

youth. 
Looked, each in the eyes of the other, and read there 

nothing but truth. 
And saw there the heart's deep yearning, and spoke 

sweet words of love. 
And promised each to be faithful till gathered "at 

home'' above. 

You then seemed to me a being too fair to live upon 

earth — 
Your eyes were blue like the twilight, your soul 

laughed out in its mirth, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 109 

And set my own all aquiver. How well I remember 
those days! 

They made me question and wonder about your win- 
some ways. 

Jn those early times, my darling, I was working hard 
for you, 

And learning to master a monster that to men in those 
days was new — 

While many a time you besought me to follow no more 
the rail, 

Because of its hidden dangers that came from the rain 
and the gale; 

But still I kept on at my calling, and soon a master 

became, 
And then, just about that season, you took to yourself 

my name. 
And on to the westward Ave traveled, to build and 

make us a home — 
To love, and to live for each other, there under God's 

beautiful dome — 
Though every shower of summer and everj^ autumn 

frost. 
And every turn of the driver, and every quick 

exhaust, 
Brought nearer the time when Death's Caller would 

summon us over the way — 
We have lived through all of these changes — yes, 

lived and loved to this day I 



110 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Yet many days have been sunny, made so by a 

childish face 
And all the merry laughter that filled the old home 

place — 
And then came the days that were cloudy, when 

misery filled the soul, 
As, bowed in deepest sorrow, we heard the death bells 

toll. 
O yes, there was brightest sunshine, and deepest and 

blackest of clouds — 
There were days of happy marriage, and days of 

funeral shrouds — 
But throughout these many changes we-ye waited and 

lived in love 
That is still as pure and shining as the gold of the 

sunset above. 

Then, O what wonderful changes have been made on 

the railroad, too! 
And all the older engines given way to those that 

are new — 
That tower up like a mountain — that have no polished 

brass — 
But shake the earth like the thunder as lightning-like 

they pass. 
These times are hard for the aged who have, in the 

service, grown old. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. Ill 

Yet to the ^^kid" must give preference — he knows more 
than we, I'm told — 

So now I'll never, my darling, ride again on that mon- 
ster there, 

Because 1 have left forever the rail with its danger 
and care; 

And here in the dying sunset we'll sit in a fond 

embrace, 
And pledge again our loving, though seamed and 

wrinkled the face; 
So, while the evening shadows stretch over the weary 

land, 
O wife of my heart and bosom, clasp tighter my trem- 
bling hand; 
For a few more showers of summer, a few more 

autumn frosts, 
A few more turns of the driver, a few more quick 

exhausts. 
And then the Caller will summon and beckon us over 

the way. 
Where we will renew our pledges as the night renews 

the day. 



112 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc OV aiood-Bumin' Days. 

The or man changed his quid once more, 
An' looked far outen the open door, 
Then shot some ^^yellar'' acrost the floor; 

He said he knowed a story, he guest 
As all would like to hear, — the best 
O' early days out in the West. 

^*I never expect again to see 

Such good oP times- — they cannot be— 

The or wood-burnin' days'-, says he. 

*^Ah, good oF days! wood-burnin' days — 
When every stick meant a hotter blaze, — 
I wish I'd stayed with you always! 

**The days when the ol' Crabs' tank 
Was piled the wood in many a rank, 
An' loaded on her from the bank. 

^The Winnis an' Baldwin an' Manchester, too, 
Was loaded often as they steamed through 
At the fearful rate o' about *twenty-two !' 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 118 

^^At nearly every station, tlieu, 
We stopped the train to once again 
Load up on wood — in snn or rain. 

^^An' often talk to each new friend 

At all these stops — on every bend — 

While gals would sometimes a message send. 

"We knew each name, an- they our own; 

We never loaded the wood alone, 

For folks all knew our whistle's tone. 

"We dare not stop to visit now 
At every station, an' scarcely bow — 
A wonderful change, you'll all allow. 

"An' where we once had things all clean 

About the wonderful ol' machine, 

We now chaw coal-dust, thick an' mean. 

"The coal comes fi^om a blankety chute, — 
No friends now from the station salute — 
We are to them a ^dirty galoot!' 

"The cruisers weigh a hundred-an'-ten! 
We whale 'em faster 'n we did then — 
About ninety — an' morel — 'Twould scare ye men. 

"An' now we run in the chain-gang t)ooI: 
Expected to make a record on fu'l^ — 
An' do all the work without a tool. 



114 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

'^An' a thousand other blankety things 
The bosses plan in their sacred rings — 
But often to vanish on theory's wings. 

^^O, good oP days — wood-burnin' days, 
When every stick meant a hotter blaze,— 
1 wish I'd stuck with you always! 

^'For best of any o' the times to me 
Were these I ne'er again shall see — 
The oV wood-burnin' days'', says he. 

The oV man flicked away a tear — 

We saw the *^Caller" comin' near — 

Then ended the varn of those davs o' cheer. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 115 



H Buffet Car Cragedy* 

The buffet car was crowded 
With travelers, young and old; 
Who seemed to feel quite happy, 

As swiftly they were rolled 
Along the steely highway, 

And pleasant stories told. 

Among the many people 
Who took the morning ride. 

Was one high collared dandy, 
Whom everybody eyed, 

Because of his fine costume, 
And mustachio that was dyed. 

He wore a Gordon cady, 
An eyeglass and a cane; 

You should have seen his necktie 
And laundry, free from stain; 

His suit was something stylish, 
His shoes were filled with pain. 



116 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

He rubbed them with a -kerchief. 

Then dusted off his hat, 
He blew the dust about him. 

Now this way, and now that, 
And started dow^n the car aisle, 

To where the porter sat. 

Surprised, he saw a raveling 

Beside the pinching shoe 
Upon his aching right foot. 

Nor knew he wiiat to do; 
But reached to snap the white thing. 

When happened something new. 

He pulled it once; it stuck fast; 

He pulled it twice and thrice, 
And every time he pulled at it 

He'd sold for any price, 
For he had started ripping 

A pant seam, in a trice. 

While backing dow^n the car aisle, 
His toe caught in the seam; 

It r-r-r-ripped with frightful vengeance, 
Till smiles began to beam 

And widened till they broke out 
In laughter most extreme. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 117 

His face grew pale and ashen, 

He was mortified and mad, 
The sweat stood on his forehead, 

His nerves were trembling bad; 
Then some of his companions 

Tried hard to look real sad. 

He backed on by the porter, 

Who now was all a-grin, 
And pleaded in a whisper, 

^^Oh have you got a pin?'' 
Thence out upon the platform — 

__ just like sin! 



118 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



H pipe Drcam^ 

Of the Section Boss. 

'•Good marnin', min! an' how ar' ye, 
O'Brine, Tom Burnes and Pat McGee?" 
(They're 'loive an' kickin', so I see), 

*Tut on the ould han' kj^ar!" 
(An' whoil they're pumpin' Oi'll whistle a tune 
Ay Irish sod, an' month av June), 
^'The Gineral Manager 's cumin' soon — 

Kape holt the handle barr! 

'*So yeez must toighten ivery jint, 
Yeez all must jump whereiyer Oi pint, 
An' all deficts yeez shure must flnt, 

Or lose j^eez bloody jobs!" 
(Now whin the Gineral comes erlong, 
Oi'll waye me hat an' sing a song. 
An' shout it wid a yoice that's strong) — 

^^Git offen the kyar, yeez snobs!" 

(Indade an' Oi'm a lucky man 
Since iyer the toime Oi fursth began 
To boss the siction) ^^O hair Oi am, 

Yeez nadn't look so odd!" 
(For in six months Oi iled the kyar, 
Oi handled the tools wid iyery care 
An' now yeez see Oi'm gittin' there) — 

"Come here, this way, a rod!" 




SWITCH-LIGHTS. 119 

(An' now Oi'm boss av all these min, 
An' whin they see Oi'm 's good 's tin, 
Rhoad-masther Oi'll be 'pinted thin) — 

^•A einter back, Oi say!" 
(Thin superintendent they'll make me, b'yes, 
Oi'll chop the heads frum min an' flies. 
An' laff at all their wimmin's cries) — 

"Kape wurkin' there away!" 

(Thin Gineral Manager Oi will be, 

An' pocket ivery blessed fee, 

Oi'll have a toime — j^eez wait an' see!) 

'^Don't shmoke yeez pipes some more! 
For now Oi think Oi hear thim cum, 
The rails air filled wid a ringin' hum — 
Kape wurkin' hard! Don't stand loike dum! 

While whizzin' by they roar!" 



120 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



''Out 6oc8 Re/' 



'Tis whin Oi sit in the avenin' toid, 

Afther wurkin' haird all day, 
An' Bridget wid me at me soide, 

We watch the kids at plaj — 
An' as they circle rount a ring, 
We hear 'em loudly call an' sing: 

^Tump, pumpety, whirrety, clickety clack; 
Wid a pinch barr sthraighten out the thrack; 
Spoik an' mall, toies an' all — 
Tamp 'em well — thin we'll call — 
^Wan, tow, three, 
Out goes he!' " 

Endade an' oft we hear at noight, 
Whin the moon an' stars broight shoine, 

Whoile b'yes an' gurrls air out o' sight, 
An' farries air on the loine; 

We hear the kids call out in drames, 

Wid voices loike the ould sod strames: 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 121 

^Tiimp, piimpety, whirrety, clickety clack; 
Wid a pinch barr sthraighten out the thrack; 
Spoik an' mall, toies an' all — 
Tamp 'em well — thin we'll call — 
*Wan, tow, three, 
Out goes he !' " 

An' thin nixt day whin Oi'm fair away, 

An' me drippin' wet wid shweat, 
Whin min air wishin' fer close av day, 

Oi'd shurely be in a fret, 
But fer the faces av me gurrls an' b'yes— 
May the saints bless 'em all! an' their cheery cries 

Av, ^Tumpety, whirrity, clickety clack; 
Wid a pinch barr sthraighten out the thrack; 
Bpoik an' mall, toies an' all — 
Tamp 'em well — thin we'll call — 
'Wan, tow, three. 
Out goes he!' " 



122 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



H Rand-Kycr LwUaby* 

An' novv, me little Pat, Oi'm home 

Frum down me siction loine, 
An' so Oi'll rock ye in the gloam, 

While bright the moon does shine. 
If s clickety-click, an' whirrity-elack, 
This song uv the han'kyar on the track — 

So go to slape to this funny chune 

Oi'm singin' ye now this noight uv June, 
Whoile rockin' ye forth an' back — 
Click-clack! 

Oi'm toired out frum work an' fret. 

An' frum the heat uv day; 
An' ye air toired, me little pet, 

Frum all yer fun an' play. 
Now listhen, Oi say, to the clickety-clack 
XJv han'kyar wheels all grase an' black — 

An' close yer oies in happy drames, 

Thin roide away on broight moon-bames 
That's playin' forth an' back — 
Click-clack! 



SWITCH-LIGxlTS. 123 



Cbc Baby-Land express* 

We all have heard of the Over Land, 

The Fast Express and Mail, 
Swift dashing along on every hand. 
Across the mountains and shifting sand, 

And rattling o'er the rail; 

But have you heard of the train that's down 

As the Baby-Land Express? 
That starts at eve from every town, 
With passengers clad in white night gown — 

Their only traveling dress? 

The train is ready to start away 

When evening meals are o'er, 
And speed along till break of day, 
To where the fairies and brownies play, — 

That far off Dream Land shore. 

The travel is heavy along this run, 

For millions every night 
Must take the journey — and O, such fun 
These travelers have till the trip is done, 

With never once a fright! 



124 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

The track is lit by the moon of gold — 

The headlight of the train — 
Revealing the secrets, I am told, 
Of wonderful things these countries hold, — 

These lands of Sleepy Plain. 

The stars that twinkle are switch lights true— 

They tell which way to go ; 
The other stars, that no twinkling do, 
But shine out bright as we fly through- 
Are station-lamps aglow. 

The trainmen bold are mothers dear, 

Who hush the babes away. 
Then watch close by, each call to hear, 
To lull to sleep or drive off fear, 

And for their charges pray. 

So cuddle down, my little one, 

Your head on my bosom press, 
And every care for the time we'll shun 
To take a trip on the babies' run,— 

The Baby-Land Express. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 125 



^' Daddy 3ttii/^ 

Twas in my earliest childhood day 
Since I can first remember him — 
'Twas long before the hair was gray 
On 

Daddy 

Jim! 
'Twas in the far-off long ago 
Of which he often dreams, I know — 
When laughingly he heard me say, 
^"Big 

Daddy 

Jim!" 

And how we romped about the place! 
I, who was small, he tall and slim — 
Until our cheeks glowed from the race — 
Eh, 

Daddy 

Jim? 
And through the years that since have fled. 
With all their living and their dead, 



126 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

There's none could set a swifter pace 
Than 

Daddy 

Jim. 

'Tick nary a fight— but should some chap 

Jump on t' yoU; jes go 't him 
An' make 'm think he's in a trap" — 
Said 

Daddy 

Jim. 
And ''keep yer nerve an' never fear 
Ter do the right, if friends do jeer; 
Jest go it like a thunder clap!" 
Said 

Daddy 

Jim. 

But now he's getting stooped and gray, 

For Time, remorseless, strong and grim, 
Has pounded Dad for many a day — 
Poor 

Daddy 

Jim ! 
And should he first pass out of sight, 
I hope he'll have things fixed all right, 
For I'll be looking all the way 
For 

Daddy 

Jim. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



127 



Cwo LiUc Coons^ 



Two li'ie coons walkin' in de san' 

Side by side an' han' in ban'! 

One's name Sam an' one's name Siz— 
^^Now," says Sam, ^^It's funny — 'tis, 

But I lubs yo'r li'le han'I" 

*^0," says Siz, ^^my goodness Ian'!" 

"Yes, an' soon," says li'le Sam, 

'^I'U be bigger 'n now I am; 
I'll be a potah 'n go er waj' — 
Won't come back fo' long, long day — 

Now yo' lub yo^r li'le Sam?" 

All Siz said was jes' — "A-ham!" 

"I'll go now an' leab yo' 'lone," 
Said li'le Sam in an uppah tone. 

What yo' think Siz up an' said? 

"Yes, I'll lub JO' till we's daid! 
Don' go leab me all er lone — 
Don' speak in dat uppah tone!" 

Two li'le coons er steppin' gran' 

Jes' dem two in all de Ian': 

One's name Sam, an' one's name Siz- 
What dey's talkin' 's none yo'r biz! 

Cayse dey's walkin' in de san', 

Side by side, an' han' in ban'! 




128 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



tl^wtUgbt echoes- 

In silence the world seeks its evening rest,— 
The birds are flying to nest. 

All Nature's children are sleeping. 
From out the blue dome the stars now shine- 
Each earthw^ard flashing a sign 

As watch o'er the land they're keeping. 

There seems to echo from over the plain 
The heavy tread of the train 

Behind its headlight flashing. 
Again I listen, and this I hear, — 
My heart impulsed with fear 

For one there onward dashing. 

And now the lamps of the towm are lit. 
But at the window I sit 

To watch the evening dying. 
And, as the shadows grow black and dim, 
My soul is yearning for him 

Who far from my side is flying. 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 129 



LulUby. 

Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, baby dear! 

Angels are bending low, 
Who will watch you, love, as you slumber here. 
So rest, darling, rest, you have nothing to fear, 

While angels are bending low; 
Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, dear! 

Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, baby bye! 

Whisper to angels near 
About thy father who's speeding on by, 
Out in the night, 'neath starry sky; 

Whisper to angels near; 
Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, bye! 

Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, baby hush! 

Whisper to angels again, 
To guard thy father, as on with a rush, 
He goes through the night till dawn's early flush; 

Whisper to angels again; 
Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, hush! 



130 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Rock-a-bye, bush-a-bye, baby still! 

Plead for his safety tonight, 
From all the dangers that threaten to kill, 
While running o'er treacherous culvert and fill; 

Plead for his safety tonight; 
Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, still! 

Rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, baby sleep! 

Lips are wreathed with a smile. 
As angels promise their watches to keep 
O'er him, till the sun from the east shall peep,- 

Lips are wreathed with a smile, 
So rock-a-bye! Hush-a-bye! Sleep! 



* SWITCH-LIGHTS. 131 



Vht Love of XZhy Mother follows* 

When leaving thy home, my brother, 

To travel o'er life's way, 
And going av^ay from loved ones, 
Who for thy safety pray, 

Forget, if you must, the parting 

Of others, lingering there, 
But not the love of thy mother, 

Who worships thy vacant chair. 

For over the highest mountain, 

And over the deepest sea, 
The true love of thy mother 

Will follow, follow thee. 

And into the deepest forests, 

Across the broadest plain, 
Aboard the rolling vessel, 

Upon the rushing train. 

The love of thy mother follows, — 
Who kissed thee at thy birth, — 

And will, till the Great Jehovah 
Recalls love from the earth. 



132 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



7u8t an engineer* 

O, that I were a poet! 

To sing to j'Ou railroad boys; 
To help you on life's journey, 

And bring you untold joys; 
I'd lighten up the burdens 

Of every changing year. 
If I were but a poet 

Instead of an engineer. 

All of life's curves I'd straighten, 

I'd ballast up its line, 
And safely build its culverts. 

So naught might undermine; 
No accident would threaten, 

To fill the soul with fear; 
I'd keep all safely running 

Just like an engineer. 

The semaphores and switches 
I'd keep locked for the Main, 

And have great ^^white lights" burning 
To guide each human train; 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 133 

And down through life's dark tunnels 

Vd set great torches near, 
To make this route the safest, 

Though but an engineer. 

And if I were a poet, 

The fullness of my soul 
I'd tell in sweetest measure, 

And ever there would roll 
The music of glad laughter, 

Where now is sigh and tear; 
But I am not — -I'm only 

Your friend — an engineer. 



134 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



€be Line po'tah. 




Hi dar! yo' li'le baby coon! 
Wid face ez roun' ez smilin' moon- 
I'll hum yo' jes' a sleepy tune— 
Yo'r eyes dey glis'n, 
I know you'll lis'n, 
Fo' Pappy's gwine soon. 

^*Dis li'le niggah chile o' mine 
'LI be a po'tah on de line, 
An' weah white shuts an' shoes dat shine, 
An' make de baids 
Fo' sleepy haids 
O' people dat am fine!" 

O yo' am noddin' now, my chile! 
De ole big rockah, fo' a while 
Mus' rock yo' more'n one big mile, 
Pas' many stah; 
Dis palace cah 
Am o' de lates' style! 
"Dis li'le niggah chile o' mine 
'LI be a po'tah on de line, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 135 

An' weah white shuts an' shoes dat shine, 

An' make de baids 

Fo' sleepy haids 
O' people dat am fine!" 

So now yo'r pappy'll make yo'r baid, 
Den lay yo'r li'le kinky haid 
Down on de pillah, and wif de spraid 
Jes' covah his lub, 
His li'le coon lub, 
Dat nodded when he said: 
^^Dis li'le niggah chile o' mine 
'LI be a po'tah on de line, 
An' weah white shuts an' shoes dat shine, 
An' make de baids 
Fo' sleepy haids 
O' people dat am fine!" 



136 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Cbc North Olinct 

Heigh!— Ho I— 

I come from the land of eternal snow; 
My haunts are there in their icy cave, 
The depths of which strong men oft brave; 
They lose! 

1 whistle! 

I blow! 
Then wildly dance o'er their unknown grave. 

Ho!— Heigh!— 
I cut the glacier as I saw by; 
1 drive the bergs far out to sea 
And veil them about with a mystery; 
The ships crash into them — cannot flee! 
Are lost! 

I laugh! 

I cry! 

Heigh!— Ho!— 

I shiver the beasts wherever I go; 
I stop in its course the swiftest stream, 
I fight the giant of steel and steam, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 137 

With all the power I know! 
It dies! 

1 rage! 

I scream! 

Ho!— Heigh!— 

But soon a breeze from the south floats by — 
Thaws out the giant, unlocks the brooks, 
And coaxes the beasts from their sheltered nooks, — 
But when in my face it fairly looks, 
I flee! 

1 wail! 

I die! 



138 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



H Mountain Song* 

O the glory of the mountains in the morning's golden 
light! 
As the sun comes softly streaming, 
And the snow-capped peaks are gleaming, 
In the colors of the rainbow that are flashing dazzling 

bright, 
While across the low^ green valley stretches far a soft 
blue veil 
Like a second sky of azure 
That increases all the pleasure 
Of a ride at early morning 'bove the clouds and o'er 
the rail. 

Now the splintered crags seem moving in the clear, 
pure morning air. 
As the sun lights up their fretwork, 
Setting jewels in the network, 
Glorious — yes, and far more precious than the proud- 
est king can wear. 
Like a crooked silver ribbon winds away the moun- 
tain stream, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 139 

While the canyon walls are sounding 
With the echoes that are bounding, 
Back along the treacherous roadway traveled by our 
steed of steam. 

Soon the sunlight calls the breezes to their wild, fan 
t a Stic play, 
While sweet kisses they are throwing, 
Filling hearts to overflowing, 
In the early golden morning, shortly after break of 

day. 
O, my eyes are never weary feasting on these pictures 
grand! 
Whether crown of white-capped mountain, 
Crag — or sky — or bubbling fountain, 
And I love to ride among them — up and down God'» 
Wonderland! 



140 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Co Mount Ratnicv* 



From out the mysterious bowels of the earth 

Hast thou been born, to stand as royal guard 

Between the changing lines that bound the land 

And solemn sea, beneath whose surface lie, 

Close hidden, ancient w^ays and coral halls. 

About thy feet are forests of the gods, 

And waters shouting out in loud acclaim, 

While all thy jagged, seamed and time-scarred walls 

Tell stories of the long-forgotten heat 

Which softened snow and ice that fain would place 

Their crown on thee, but, melting, wore away 

The cooling rocks, were lost and sought the tides 

With living streams that burst from out thy heart, 

Till now upon they lofty head is seen 

The aged glacier, wrinkling up thy brow. 

At night thy frozen diadem reflects 

The twinkling of the signal-lights of heaven; 

At morning, noon and eve the golden sun 

Lights up in ambient hues thy thousand dells. 

Around thv sides lurk oftentimes the clouds — 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



141 



Those courses where God's thunder-chariots race 
And jostling, rend apart the heavy mists. 
That all below may see His living fires! 
An antique pillar of the earth art thou; 
With grandeur that is slow to feel decay. 
Because thou art an emblem of the Hand 
That brought thee forth, by which all things were 
made ! 




fe^^-> 



142 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



BcadUgbt flashes. 



When the western twilight lingers. 

And the eastern sky grows dark. 
Angels show the tips of fingers 

In the heavens — each a spark,— 
And the w^orld lies dark and quiet 

Like some great and silent tomb. 
Then we trim and fix our headlight. 

That must guide us through the gloom. 

When we're rolling onward, steaming 

Down the Empire of the Mght, 
Then our trusty light is gleaming 

From its iron case and height 
O'er the prairies and the deserts, 

'Mong the ancient mountain crags, • 
In the valleys, by the freshets, — 

'Gainst the fog down in the sags. 

Should the western skies grow cloudy, 
And the winds and rain begin 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 143 

While the thunders crash so loudly 
That we wish that we were "in" — 

Then our headlight, brightly blazing. 
Glistens 'long the wetted rails 

Where the deer are often grazing 
Till the whistle loudly hails. 

When the north winds madly bellow, 

And the storm is beating fast, 
And the balmy days, and mellow 

That we love, have all gone past, — 
Then we buck on through the snowstorm 

In the dark, yet moving slow, 
For our headlight's nearly covered 

With a crust of sleet and snow. 

So we, through the night, swift boring, 

Leave behind us naught but dark, 
People hear a thundrous roaring, 

See naught but a vibrant spark; 
'Neath its flash the world is flowing 

Like a river's restless tide, 
While this light is ever showing 

Down the line where dangers hide. 



144 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Romcward Bound* 

Away! away I we are homeward bound! 
Hark how the driving wheels whizz round. 
As onward now we swifty speed, 
High mounted on our racing steed! 
We sway and rock and quiver so 
We scarcely breathe as on we go, — 
Now homeward bound. 

We're rushing fast along the night. 
Our way is lit by the clear headlight 
That flashes to the stars on high. 
While all the country is twisting by; 
The farms and towns, the wood and lakes. 
Are spinning past while our steed takes 
Us homeward bound. 

These signals sound as we rush through: 
"0-0-0-0-00 ! 0-0-0-0-00 ! O-o-o! O-o-o!'' 
While swinging round the sharpest curves. 
High strung are all our tingling nerves; 
We clatter down hills and over plain, 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 145 

Then, crossing the roads, we signal again — 
"We're homeward bound." 

We watch for the milepost of each town — 
With rumble and racket rush right down 
To the station platform, packed so tight 
With people journeying at night 
To visit friends, or far or near — 
And others also waiting here 

For loved ones, homeward bound. 

We soon shall reach the last mile-post, 
That stands out bold like a white winged ghost. 
From which we are quite sure to get 
A caution — we are near the net 
Of the busy yard; while those who share 
Our home, breathe forth their thanks in prayer 
That we are homeward bound. 




146 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



''Hm 1 My Brotbci^'e Keeper? ^^ 

^^I hate the laboring class of the world!'' 

The rich man said, as he snugly curled 

Himself in the berth of his private car, 

That swung back and forth without a jar; 

^^If judgment of them were only mine, 

I'd yoke them up with the plodding kine; 

I'd shackle, enslave them, every one. 

To serve, till the day of their life was done, 

Down in the mine or on the rail; 

In dusty mill or 'neath flapping sail — 

I'd grind their souls, I'd break their bones, 

And laugh at all the prayers and groans 

That came from their children or their wives; 

I'd grind them, too, to the end of their lives; 

I'd cut all wages, as I've just done 

Upon my road, — yes, every one; 

And if they struck, black-list them all 

The way I did on the line last fall. 

O how I hate the common herd!" 

And he fell asleep with that hateful word. 

And while he slept, ^^the herd" that night 

Held watch over all and kept things right 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 147 

Up in his mill, out on the main, 
Ahead in cab, back in the train. 
There, at the ^'key," and in the "yard,'' 
The "common herd'' stood faithful guard. 

* * * -Sf 

The train had stopped at a watering place. 

And out of the dark appeared a face 

So drawn and pinched, and thin and gaunt, 

It told of poverty dire, and want; 

Its owner skulked, and bending low 

Dived 'neath the truck of the coach below. 

As the train started on to finish the night, 

He whispered low while he shook with fright, 

"Oh, God, when will this chasing cease 

So I again can live in peace? 

Can settle down, — once more a man; 

And feel there is not the awful ban 

Of the black-list hanging o'er — cursed thing! 

It pierces my soul with a venomed sting. 

I've traveled and hunted the country o'er, 

I've tramped and begged from door to door. 

And when at last luck seemed to come 

It proved to be but the smallest crumb. 

For soon I'd be told, ^Not wanted here; 

You struck last fall on the "Hope and Fear"!' 

Again I'd tramp; for work I'd plead, 

But no one gave me the slightest heed; 

And now word comes that a loved one dear 



148 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 

Is dying — Lord, wilt Thou not hear? 
I love her so! Oh, give me strength 
To hold — '' and then his shadowy length 
Slipped off and fell; and in his dream 
The rich man thought he heard a scream, — 
Or was it just that old flat wheel 
That caused the coach for once to reel? 

Still swiftly toward the coming dawn 
The train with the rich man speeded on, 

While, miles behind, a ghastly sight 

Lay covered o'er by the wing of night; 

And in yon distant little town 

Death's angel slowly settled down. 

And an angel wrote next the rich man's name, 

^Tor this he only is held to blame; 

He need not hope a heaven to win. 

For there no murderer enters in!" 



SWITCH-LIGHTS. 149 



Cbe Last Run* 

After tra>^eling many a year 

Along the crooked line 
Beset by dangers we all fear, 

Though bright the sun doth shine, — 
We may take that long Last Run, 
Though our life is just begun. 

It may be while speeding fast 
Far down the threads of steel, 

With the world swift dancing past, 
All in a dizzy reel, — 

We shall find that we must go 

On that run, with Life's great Foe. 

Or we might be called instead 

To take this long Last Eun — 
Through the veil hung just ahead, 

Across the road we shun, — 
While we're home, with loved ones near, 
Bidding us to have no fear. 

If at home, or on the rail. 

We should be called to go, 
O may the angels never fail 

To keep the lights aglow. 
Guiding us on this Last Run, 
Till we hear, "Thou hast well done!" 



150 SWITCH-LIGHTS. 



Signal Lights* 

Evening — then star and crescent moon, 
And thoughts in which my soul delights, 

That there will beckon to me soon 
Those distant, heavenly Signal Lights. 

Midnight — and silence o'er the land, 

And dreams that throng this sleep of mine, 

And tell me that some unseen hand 
Will ever let these signals shine. 

Morning — and echoes from the tower. 
And hopes that from eternal heights. 

This friend, when comes life's changing hour. 
Will guide me by His Signal Lights. 



V/'^^y^ 




PRESS OF 

C01VIAlE:RCI.iVL. ATSTD TIISIES 

JOB FRINXINC3^ CO. 



OCT 29 1902 



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